


Puppy Planning

by perfectpro



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectpro/pseuds/perfectpro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Lydia adopt a puppy, and Stiles plans further into the future than he thought he was going to need to for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Planning

**Author's Note:**

> Because who doesn't need more Stydia fluff?

Lydia and Stiles stare into the cage with identical expressions of awe at the creatures in front of them. Inside the cage are six chocolate Labrador puppies and their proud mom. In short, it is the cutest thing that either of them have seen since the last Stiles visited Scott at the vet’s office and saw a sheepdog sneeze because it was allergic to its own fur. And trust Stiles, that shit is adorable.

“I want all of them,” Lydia says, reaching forward to poke two fingers through the bars. Two of the puppies bound forward immediately, followed by one that is more tentative. All of their tails flap in sync, like a puppy dance routine that they’ve been rehearsing.

Stiles agrees, more than agrees, because he’s in love with each and every one of them, and he wants to take all of them home. In a perfect world, their apartment complex would allow for them to have as many animals as they want. However, they don’t live in a perfect world. They live in a world where they went to high school on a Hell Mouth and the pet policy their landlord abides by only allows for one dog. “We have to choose,” he says, sounding more than disappointed. How can he choose when they are obviously all so perfect?

One of the puppies, the one who approached Lydia last, gives a little yip in its sibling’s ear and tries to stand on top of the other two before flopping back to the ground. Lydia coos, wiggling her fingers and making literal heart eyes at them through the cage bars. She even attempts some baby talk at them.

“Who are the most anatomically pleasing canine babies? You are,” she babbles.

For Lydia, this is surprisingly good baby talk. The last time she attempted it was at Derek and Braeden’s two month old, explaining to the child why peek-a-boo was a form of child abuse because it took advantage of the infant’s inability to have yet achieved object permanence. She explained Piaget’s theory of childhood development to the little girl, going so far as to read a passage out of her old psych textbook. So telling puppies that they’re ‘anatomically pleasing canine babies’? It’s an improvement, so Stiles decides he can let it slide.

Besides, he kind of has to agree. They are pretty anatomically pleasing. Just look at those tails, he bets that when they get as big as their mom they’ll be able to pack a pretty serious punch. He wonders who would win between a two month old and a Labrador puppy. Derek’s little girl is now four months old, but Stiles doubts that it really makes that big of a difference. Once they adopt one of these things, they can put it to the test.

It doesn’t need to be a battle to the death or anything serious like that. He’s just curious.

The mom, a positively gorgeous black lab with the shiniest fur either of them have seen, wakes up from the back of the cage and blinks at them before going back to sleep. The motion frees one of the puppies from where it had been sleeping under her chin, and it comes bounding out and gives a tiny bark before Stiles.

Stiles can’t help it when he says ‘aw’ and reaches for the little guy or girl. “I like this one. Look at her, just look at her little ears.” He scratches the puppy’s ears through the bars and coos.

“That one’s a boy,” Scott says from behind them, leaning forward and unlocking the cage. Puppies come spilling out, and it is every bit as much of the Heaven that Stiles has ever hoped for.

“Well, of course he is, just look at his little ears,” Stiles corrects himself, scooping up the tiny dog and scratching under its chin affectionately.

Lydia looks over at him from where she’s surrounded by the three puppies that approached her in the first place. “I want all of them,” she says, passing one of the puppies to the Scott as she tucks the other two under her arms. “We could totally adopt all of them. They’re small, our landlord would never know.”

With a significant look at the mom, Scott says, “They’re small for now, but they don’t stay that way.”

Which, yeah, Lydia knows. “We’ll move. What’s that one’s name?” she asks, pointing to the one that Stiles has kidnapped and is currently lifting in the air whilst singing ‘The Circle of Life’.

Glancing back in the cage and seeing the other two puppies asleep, Scott closes the door but doesn’t lock it. “We’ve been calling him ‘Scooter’.”

Stiles adopts the sweetest of expressions and hugs Scooter closer to his chest. “That’s perfect,” he tells his girlfriend. He can already tell that he and Scooter are destined to be together, meant to spend their lives on long walks through parks and fields of untrimmed grass. Maybe he can even take Scooter on runs once he’s old enough and big enough. They can enter in 5ks together, which would be adorable.

He wonders if there’s a special category for Owner/Pet teams instead of Parent/Child teams. They might be able to make some serious records, plus Scooter can totally shame the Daschund that Erica and Boyd adopted last year. There’s no way Erica and Bitsy will be able to beat him and Scooter.

“I hate that name,” Lydia says, interrupting Stiles’s plans for incorporating Scooter into his future workouts. “It doesn’t fit him.” By now, she’s set down the dogs she’d been holding and has approached Stiles and the probably-going-to-be-renamed-soon Scooter.

Immediately defensive, Stiles says, “It fits him perfectly.”

Scott watches them with a bemused smile and goes to leave the room. “Just come get me when you guys decide on one. Right now, I have a constipated Pomeranian to deal with.” With a false excited face and a thumbs up, he gives a wave to Scooter and then to Stiles and Lydia before exiting.

Stiles doesn’t care about a Pomeranian’s bowel movements or lack thereof, so he doesn’t pay that much attention to Scott, choosing instead to focus on the fact that Lydia doesn’t believe that this tiny ball of fur is clearly meant to be in their lives and meant to be named Scooter. They’re going to run together. “What would you know about naming dogs? Your last one was named after a fashion brand.”

The roll of her eyes is such a practiced motion that he can’t help but realize that he’s the reason why she perfected it. “Prada, God rest her soul, loved her name. And it fit her. Scooter doesn’t fit him.” As she says it, she pets the dog gently and watches in awe as his tail thumps hard on Stiles’s hand.

As much as he hates to admit it, Prada did fit the dog. 

“Well, what’re your genius idea to name him?” he asks, even though he knows they’re going to stick with Scooter. What name could fit the little guy better than Scooter?

She shrugs absentmindedly. “Something more classic. Labradors aren’t just any dogs. They’re national treasures,” she informs him, twisting a lock of red hair around of her fingers before looking up at him with bright eyes.

Oh, no. Stiles knows those eyes. Those eyes are the start of an idea that won’t go the way that he wants it to. Those eyes are the reason that they’re banned from Ikea, because Lydia had taken one look around the predesigned studio apartment before deciding that it wasn’t good enough and she needed to redo everything. He’s seen those eyes enough to know that nothing good comes of them.

“No,” he starts, still unsure of what he’s saying no to. He doesn’t think that naming a puppy could have any tremendously bad ideas, but he’s trusting his gut on this one and his gut says that he needs to stop this before it gets any worse.

Smiling, Lydia looks at the pup and says, “Our little national treasure.” 

This is still going down, he hasn’t stopped anything, so he says it again, “No.” He doubts that she’ll even pretend to pay any attention to him.

The words that leave Lydia’s mouth next are the most horrible ones that Stiles could think of, and he’s been freaking out about the premonition for at least thirty seconds. 

“Nicholas Cage,” she coos to the dog.

Stiles looks to Scooter, the litany of curses on his tongue ready to fly at any moment. For now, though, he can still hope. “No, no, please, no,” he chants softly, praying that Scooter has enough sense to not respond to Lydia’s ridiculous sense of humor. Scooter is better than that. Scooter is a running dog, Scooter is going to fetch him the Sunday paper and is going to trot along the edge of the property at Lydia’s family’s lake house.

Scooter barks happily.

Scooter is Nicholas Cage. Stiles feels betrayed, looking down at the bundle of fur in disappointment. “I believed in you, man. I had faith in you, and you let me down.” If he wasn’t already so attached, he’d pick up one of the other puppies out of spite.

Lydia smiles wide and pats the dog’s head. “Isn’t that cute? Nicholas Cage?”

Stiles has never heard anything less cute in his life, could not think of anything less cute than Nicholas Cage if his life depended on it, but Lydia will make him sleep on the futon they haven’t ever gotten around to getting rid of if he says that, so he just sighs and says, “Adorable.”

Scooter – no, Nicholas – nuzzles Lydia’s hand gently. It’s such a sweet motion that Stiles almost forgives the dog for his treacherous deed. Almost.

“I’m your new mommy,” Lydia says to the tiny puppy in Stiles’s arms that will henceforth be known as Nicholas.

Stiles’s brain takes a moment to short out, because, wow, he thinks that one day he’d like for Lydia to say that to a human child. Their child. He hadn’t really thought about their own babies when she’d been with Derek and Braeden’s daughter, but that was mostly because watching Lydia read a baby a psychology textbook without a hint of irony made him realize how much therapy children of theirs are going to need when they’re older.

He’d never believed that guys seriously put a huge amount of stock into a woman’s mothering instinct, but that was before he’d seen Lydia Martin look at a small dog and declare herself a parent. Now he definitely believes, because one day his girlfriend will make an awesome mom. Once she stops telling children about Harlow’s monkey experiment, because that’s serious creepy and is about as comforting to a baby as the original Grimm’s fairy tales. Which is to say that it isn’t comforting. Not at all.

Nicholas gives another happy bark, and Stiles is pretty sure his lower lip is going to drop onto the floor from just how cute this has been. He hugs the dog just a little bit closer and enjoys the soft warm feeling. Not only from the puppy, but also from seeing Lydia just tell Nicholas she’s his new mommy. Excuse him is he has the feels.

Lydia helps the other puppies back into the cage and waves sadly at them. “We’re going to move and when we move I’m going to come back and adopt all of you. Yes, all of you. You, too, Mom,” she informs them as she locks the cage door behind them. “We’ll have a big backyard and you guys can just play all the time.”

“And we’ll take you for walks and our neighbors will call us the crazy dog couple,” Stiles pipes up from where he’s been standing absorbed in Nicholas. He raises Nicholas’s paw to wave goodbye to his brothers and sisters before going out to inform Scott that they have, in fact, chosen just one. Their landlord will be so proud.

“Bye, bye,” Lydia calls as they walk into the waiting room. Scott is away, probably still occupied with the Pomeranian, so they sit down with the puppy until they can actually sign the adoption papers.

Watching Lydia make the dog run in tiny circles on the table next to their seats, Stiles sits back and thinks about how this means that they’re staying together. Not that he thought they’d break up, but now they’re putting forth a statement. They’re adopting a dog, they’re saying _This dog is ours together and we’re not going to spend our lives apart_. And that’s the kind of message that he can get behind.

They’re a couple. A real, functioning couple. He almost thought they’d never get there, that they were going to make a go of being the people who got together but never did anything about it. “Hey,” he says suddenly, as though he’s just thought of it, “this is good practice for a baby.”

Lydia snorts before looking at him and laughing. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good think we’ll be able to get in a few years of practice, then.”

His heart almost stops then and there, because while he’d been joking he hadn’t expected her to take him seriously. Mostly because she never takes him seriously, but still. Voice hoarse, he whispers, “Do you mean that?”

Yipping, Nicholas puts his paws on the leg of Stiles’s pants, but Stiles is paying far too much attention to Lydia to do much but pat the dog distractedly.

With a pause, she breathes in before saying, “Yeah. One day, a few years from now, sure.”

That gives Stiles a few years to find the perfect bank to start a college fund in. Holy shit, they’re adopting a dog and one day they’re going to have a kid and that little guy or girl is going to grow up and be theirs. Holy shit.

“Hey, guys, you ready?” Scott calls, poking his head out at them from his office.

With his eyes on Lydia, Stiles manages, “Yeah. We’re ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> You absolutely can't tell me that Lydia wouldn't name their dog Nicholas Cage, I refuse to believe otherwise.
> 
> If you want to come chat with me about stydia and headcannons on tumblr, I'm helpless-in-sleep and would love to talk!


End file.
